


Regretting That Which Hasn't Happened Yet

by Salt00



Series: Linked Universe and connected pieces [2]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords, The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap
Genre: Acceptance of one's death, Angst, Gen, Holding onto trauma until the day you die - less good, Meditation is a good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-20 14:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18527254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salt00/pseuds/Salt00
Summary: When Four dreams, he remembered a future where Vaati is released. When Four dreams, he sees the memories of one who is not himself, but still is. When Four dreams, he wakes to know that he still so much work left to do. When Four dreams, he sees the day he fails.Sometimes, he needs to take a moment to remember himself.





	1. It's bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write a piece on Four dealing with being from multiple games (Minish Cap + Four Sword + Four Sword Adventures). Note that I headcanon Four being at least over 21 (despite his height he always struck me as the second dad of the group, comparable in age to Time).

~~_ We are dreaming. _ ~~

_ They walked together, movement perfectly aligned. They turned their head and they could see Zelda. She was upset. She was worried.  _ ~~_ She is different. She is young. She is someone else. _ ~~

~~_ We watch the boy and Zelda. We are so tired. _ ~~

_ She turned to look at the moss-covered pedestal, so they did too. Zelda was saying something, but they weren’t listening. Their eyes were fixed onto the blade. It was mysterious.  _ ~~_ It is our blade. We forged it. With Earth, Fire, Water, Air, and our very **Soul**. _ ~~

_ They felt something strange. Like a shutter through the ground, or a shiver in the dirt. The air seemed to buzz. Zelda gasped.  _ ~~_ Our fault. We can’t hold him back any longer. _ ~~

_The sword twitched. With a ting, then a roar, the mist seeped from the pedestal._ ~~ _Vaati_~~ _A great dark creature arose from_ _the ~~broken seal~~_ ~~_us_~~ _the sword._ ~~ _Vaati_~~ _It grabbed Zelda, their best friend, and vanished._

_ They screamed, they wept, they raged, they lost hope. _

_ They despaired. _

_ And then they got up. _

_ Step by step by step they approached  _ ~~_ us _ ~~ _ the blade. _

_ Damned sword. It was this sword’s fault. If the seal had been better, Zelda would still be safe! Curse the sword!  _ ~~_ We’re sorry. We did as all we could. We failed. _ ~~

_ They placed their hands over the hilt of the sword. Useless sword! They yanked it from the stone.  _ ~~_ No! Not like that! You’ll cut yourself! _ ~~

_ They lifted the cursed sword from the stone and raised it high, ready to throw it away. It sliced through the air, visibly cutting the nothing in front of them. They gasped. Their grip on the sword was sloppy.  _ ~~_ You fool. You’ve never held a blade in your life, have you? _ ~~

_ The sword was sharp. Too sharp. _

_ They felt the blade’s slash. _

_ They screamed. _

_ Their body was sliced in four. The pain was excruciating.  _ ~~_ It’s not supposed to hurt. You foolish boy. You poor, foolish, cursed boy. You’ve done this to yourself. _ ~~

_ Then the pain stopped. They picked themselves up. They saw themself. They gasped smiled groaned sighed  _ _~~existed~~. _

~~_ Foolish, but brave. Worry not. Our skills with the blade shall be yours. _ ~~

_ Four swings of a single blade, confident and sure. _

_ They were One, but they were also Four. _

 

Four awoke.

 

The dream was a familiar one. It felt more a memory than a dream.

Sometimes, he wondered how Wind dealt with this, remembering life from a time long in the future. He wondered how similar their situation was. Mostly he wondered if their situation was different. He hoped, for Wind’s sake, that it was.

Four could remember his journey to rescue Zelda from the mad wind mage Vaati. Not  _ his _ Zelda, not his Queen Zelda. Rather, Zelda the shrine maiden.

He remembered from the moment the Four Sword was grasped up until the moment it was placed back onto the pedestal. He didn’t remember anything before or after. Not a childhood or an adulthood. Merely the adventure.

Four could remember his own life. He remembered growing up with his grandfather. Learning the forge. Sneaking off with Zelda. He remembered his life before Vaati began his rampage.

His eyes drifted to the Four Sword. His thoughts drifted to his dream. He knew it was no coincidence that he dreamt from the perspective of the sword.

He hadn’t known the damning details when he forged it, but he knew now. The day he put the sword to rest in stone would be the day he drew his last breath.

Was it ironic? Four thought of the other Heroes of Courage. They were all tied to the Master Sword, the only exception being Hyrule.

No, they were tied in a different manner. Four remembered Sky speaking of the spirit of the sword, Fi.

It seemed Four was his own Fi.

He took a deep breath, and let his mind relax. He exhaled and released his bitterness.

Four had sealed Vaati in his sword the day he saved Hyrule. Ezlo (Goddesses he missed Ezlo) warned him that the sword alone could not hold Vaati forever. That was fine. He would improve it.

Four had turned towards honing his craft. He studied smithing from Hylians, Picori, Gorons, and the Wind tribe. He sought out knowledge from the dead, observed secrets from fairies, bartered with the Business Deku-shrubs, dug through every library he could find. He learned all there was to be taught in all of Hyrule.

So he traveled away from Hyrule. He observed the effects of Zelda’s Wish and the peace it brought to all creatures. During the days of his quest, monsters roamed the land. On this pilgrimage, however, he didn’t meet so much as a single bokoblin. He met many strange creatures. Fish-like Zora, mountaineering Dwarves, Child-like Forest Dwellers, Desert nomad Gerudos. He spent an especially long time with the sky-dwelling ancient race of the Oocca. He spent even longer with the secretive Subrosia of Holodrum, learning what he could of the volcanic society.

He found ancient wonders of a time long past. Metalloid statues broken in disrepair, but perhaps lived and moved about in ages past. Odd applications of electricity. Metallurgies and strange ores that did impossible things. Rocks that reminded him of the magic of Kinstones, rocks that seemed to warp the very time around them.

Still, after some time, there was nothing left to be taught.

But there was still everything to learn.

He experimented. Goron blades were sturdy and durable, but often dull. Picori blade were razor-sharp but easily broke. Hylian blades were a good middle ground, hardy and sharp, but failed to be truly great blades.

It was funny how what was common knowledge to some was unknown to others.

When Four claimed he had nearly perfected his craft, he was not exaggerating. He combined everything he learned. Together, with the totaled wisdom the world had to offer, Four became a true legendary smith. Even now, he was still learning, still improving.

He invented technique after technique. He improved what was already known and then some. He revolutionized the field of smithing. It wasn’t arrogance, either, considering that some of his techniques lived on into even Wild’s time.

But his purpose was no longer to craft a sword. That was done and over with.

He needed to craft the seal.

He needed to forge the pedestal of the Four Swords.

He couldn’t seal the blade back in it’s original resting place. Back before it was the Four Sword, back when it was merely the Picori blade, the pedestal had failed. How could the old thing hope to contain the enhanced blade? It wouldn’t. Evil had escaped that prison once already. He was determined to craft a better one, one that would hold the tests of time.

He knew he could do, knew he  _ would _ do it, because he had seen the day it failed.

Sometimes, he wondered why the others were summoned together at the ages they were. Sure, it was obvious that everyone was brought forth only after completing their ‘destiny’ or whatnot. But why were some, like Wind or Wild, summoned so shortly after completing their quest, while himself and Time were summoned so many years after? 

Four knew the answer for himself.

The day before he had awoken in an unfamiliar Hyrule, his research had granted him the last key piece of knowledge he would need to forge a binding for Vaati.

Then, two days into traveling with his other incarnations, he dreamt the same dream he had tonight. If he hadn’t already figured out the trick, the dream of the future would have given it away. He supposed, for the sake of the timeline, he needed to solve the answer first before he could be pulled into this whole ‘hero’ business again.

His dream granted him the perfect vision of the day his life’s work crumbled.

The dream spat in Four’s face. It told him that it was impossible to seal Vaati forever. No matter what he did, no matter how great a smith he became, he would never be able to forge the perfect prison for the dark wizard.

However, it also told him that what he  _ did _ accomplish would be enough, in the end. He would be able to seal Vaati for as long as required for a new hero to arise.

It was bittersweet.

It was not the only dream as such he had had, either. One other very similar dream haunted him. The dream where he met with his own shadow, where his own dark shade broke the seal.

There were silver linings to the second dream. He knew it was centuries after the previous dream, that Hyrule had enjoyed a long peaceful period. He also knew that he allied with his shadow, completing his being in a way he never noticed had been missing.

It was bittersweet.

Four sighed, his eyes drifting to the window. The sun was beginning to rise. He shut his eyes and breathed. He felt his mind expand and contract and then settle into the comfortable rhythm of unity. All part and pieces working together as one. One sum greater than the whole of its parts. 

It was necessary for Four to meditate from time to time, so as to keep a healthy state of mind. Beyond that, he enjoyed meditation.

He breathed and let the world around him fade to irrelevance. 

He breathes.

First he brings forth his worries, his suspicions, his unbending stubbornness. He tempers his resolve, he steadies his ideals. He softens the rigid foundation of his obsessions, and lets grains of useless clutter fall through the cracks of his self. He holds his compassion, exhales, and lets his dread sink into the earth below.

He takes another breath. He calls upon his anxiety and nervousness and the grief it burns to hide. He lets the untamed energy burn through himself, every cell set alight with feeling and emotion. He holds this until his grief thaws and crumbles into smoke. Then he lets it settle into stable embers, a warmth ready beneath his skin for himself and for those he cares for.

He invites his jealousy, his insecurities, his selfishness. He welcomes these parts of himself into his innermost self. He allows these weeds to take root and he nurtures them. He guides the growth. The poison is harvested as medicine, and the weeds of guilt grow into tall loyal trees. The stand forgiving of his mistakes and providing vigilant guardians, ready to protect and defend the justice of others.

He removes his walls and allows his shame, despair, and regret to drift to the forefront of his thoughts. It curdles like heavy fog and threatens to leave him lost within his own mind. Instead, he lets the sadness breeze through himself, allowing it to blow it’s howling gale unhindered and free. He does nothing but listen to it’s wind as the air lightens and lifts. He opens his eyes and allows the soft breeze to blow away the remaining sorrow, leaving behind a perfect calm.

He turns his body and reaches outwards with his mind, and he becomes truly whole.

He soothes the old well of loneliness. He bends the quiet babbling stream of faded hurts and deep fears to flow into his soul. He rides the gentle river down into the raging tempest. He braves the terror and self-loathing until he sails into the eye of the storm. There he pours forth his essence of self, and renews the bridge between his soul.

He is Many. He is One. He is Four, and he is Five. 

He is Green. He is Red. He is Blue. He is Vio. He is Shadow. He is worried and anxious and jealous and ashamed and afraid. He is stubborn and emotional and argumentative and apathetic and uncertain. He is compassionate and empathetic and loyal and wise and brave.

He is One.

He is Link.

He smiles to himself. Some day he would imbue his very soul into the seal to bind Vaati. Until that day, though, he would live his life. He strapped the Four Sword to his belt. His soul was already bound to the sword, so really, binding the other half to the pedestal wouldn’t be hard.

He could smell Wild’s cooking. Yes, today would be another good day, he decided. Even if it wasn’t, that would be alright too.


	2. Palace of the Four Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four has a new dream, one with a familiar face.

~~_ We are dreaming. _ ~~

He is in pain. All he knows is pain. Was there ever anything else?

Where was the rest of him?

_ We were driven apart, forced to separate. Bound by forces of darkness, trapped in a realm of evil and madness. _

His mind is splintered, his spirit broken. How long ago was the shattering? Centuries? Millennium? Did it even matter?

He could remember it wasn’t like this before. He was forgetting, had already forgotten so much, but he knew it was not supposed to be like this.

Cold, silent, dark. A longing he could never appease, a maddening desperation to be whole again. Where was the rest of himself?

He remembered the time before the pain. He remembered sleeping and resting. They had been content. Hadn’t they?

_ We were taken, our blade stolen and ravaged. Useless without a vessel to wield us. _

He ached for an end. The darkness of the mirror realm would not allow a moment’s rest. Every second bled into the next, slow and unyielding. Trapped within his shattered blade, he could not move. He could not feel. He could not see. And yet the miasma of evil seeped into his very being.

He knew he had forgotten much. What had his purpose been, back when he was whole? 

_ The darkness corrupts us in our weakened state. Alone, our greatest flaws override all else. Regret, shame, grief, guilt. Naught left but despair. _

Something was changing, though. He could feel it. A small point of light entered his  ~~ prison ~~ palace. The light burned what few senses he had.

He despised this bright creature.

_ How far we have fallen. Once, our soul was bright enough to dispel the greatest evil the land had ever faced. Now we are one with that very same evil. _

_ Oh how much we hate ourself. Let this small mote of light smite us and end our suffering. We are too diseased to continue. _

He felt the bright speck move throughout the palace. Where the creature went, darkness was extinguished. Slowly the light illuminated all that he could see.

The light stood before him.

~~_ Are we still dreaming? _ ~~

The light ripped him from his pedestal, a slow and calm tide flowing through his soul now that the dark bonds were cut. He still felt the pain, though. Something was better, but nothing was right.

He could feel a resonance from the tiny creature. It felt familiar.

The creature placed him within his bag, and he felt  _ rage _ . For within the sack of this light creature laid three familiar blades, identical to his own shell. He felt the ping of self as their metal scraped against one another, so agonizingly close yet nowhere near complete.

But this creature of light did not care for his rage. Instead, the boy brought them to a ceremonial room. 

The darkness flowed through their blades. He could feel the other shards of his soul.

First came a shower of dark sickening green. Despite having no eyes, he could see the manifestation of his soul clearly. The form looked familiar, but so very wrong. Hair limp like dead plants, body thin and skeletal. The red eyes were half lidded, staring forward but seeing nothing.

He watched as the Light Being wasted no time attacking. The green piece of his soul stood no chance, shaking and swaying, taking slow fatigued steps. After only landing a single strike on the Light Being, the portion of his soul was struck down. 

He couldn’t describe how it made him feel. Disappointment? Fear? Despair? Hope? Rage? Disgust?

He didn’t have any more time to ponder the strange mix of emotions. In a spatter of red sparks the second portion of his soul formed. The sparks formed a being of washed out orange, face twisted into a stone-like carving of agony. The mouth was wrenched open unnaturally wide, the eyes wide staring upward at an unseen eternal horror. The soul fragment took two jittering steps forward and swung, fast and reckless.

He noticed the fight took longer this time. It didn’t matter by the end though. The Light Being struck true and dispelled the second portion of his soul.

The creature of light was dimming ever so slightly. Good. Damn the light creature.

_ Stay strong, hero. _

Ash-stained blue roared into existence. The fragment wasted no time, rushing the Light Being before even fully forming. This portion of his soul manifested as rage incarnate. Red eyes were narrowed onto the Light Being with a single minded anger unlike anything he could imagine. Was that truly a piece of himself?

This soul-shard was smarter than the previous two, blade cutting into the Light Being’s flesh many more times. Nonetheless, just like with the last two, the Light Being defeated the rage as well.

He felt the world come into focus around him. Where before his senses told him only that they resided within a room, now he saw detail and color. He felt his hands and arms and smokey flesh. It was familiar. Had he once been amongst the living? Had there been a time he hadn’t been a soul bound within a cursed sword?

His eyes fixed on the Light Being before him.  _ The Hero _ . He pulled forward his sword and narrowed his eyes. He saw the Hero,  _ the symbol of hope and courage and all that is good _ , and he saw a boy on his last leg. He saw a boy,  _ a boy _ , who was panting and bleeding and barely standing.

He wasted no time disposing of the boy. The  _ pitiful creature of light _ . He sunk his sword deep into the boy’s stomach. He took note of every detail. The way the hero looked so surprised. The blood that oozed first onto his blade, then poured from the boy’s mouth.

He memorized the sight of triumph. He relished the sight of color. The red tunic, green undershirt, blue hat. The blond hair with a touch of pink. The blood that stained everything.

~~_ No. No. This is a nightmare. No. _ ~~

_ This is a memory. _

~~_ No… _ ~~

He pulled the sword from the boy’s body. He watched the body fall and hit the floor. He watched the blood pool.

He saw a tiny winged thing fly out from the hero’s bag and fly around his fallen form.

Ah. He had forgotten. Even the smallest of things can bring the largest of consequences.

With smooth efficiency the hero spat blood and rose to his feet. The hero wasted not a moment as he struck forward.

It was a long battle, one that he was slowly loosing. The hero, too, was loosing.

Then he saw his opening.

A final mortal blow. There would be no recovery this time.

He gave a dive as the hero extended his sword. He slid low and completed a roll. He was behind the hero, and the hero was still extended. The hero would not be able to block.

He felt a twitch in his mind. A memory? No, not now. Later.

He raised his blade and prepared to cleave through the boy’s neck.

The boy turned his head, too slow to defend himself. The look of raw horror confirmed that he too knew this was the end.

_ Please. Don’t. _

He remembered.  _ He _ was once a hero too.

He dropped his blade and dropped his despair. He waited with open arms.

He did not have wait long.

He looked into the eyes of the Hero.  _ Thank you, _ he mouthed.

Then he burst into violet light.

He felt his swords raise and come together.

_ Finally, they were whole again. _

The agony of darkness coalesced as the four wounded fractions of a single soul came together. Humming in harmony he became they. But there was no rejoicing as their soul fit back together like jagged glass. Together they bled. They **s h a t t e r e d** — 

Four screamed. He screamed and screamed and  _ screamed _ .

He remembered the four tattered fragments all at once, each quarter of his soul reliving hell. He remembered four eternities of hell, four eternities compounded upon one another. Wounds and scar tissue overlayed his mind as he  _ knew _ the darkness that had overtaken and destroyed his entire self so throughout.

Wasn’t this supposed to be healing? This was what he wanted  _ so desperately _ for  _ so long _ . He was  _ whole _ . Instead it felt as though each shard of his soul brought heavier and heavier burdens until the combined agony was too much.

He felt the tatters of his soul  _ give _ . 

He screamed.

 

~~**~~

 

Legend bolted upright in his bedroll at the scream. A quick assessment of the camp showed the other heroes grabbing for their weapons as well. It was a smooth habit to have his sword in hand and stance battle ready at a moment’s notice.

With a jolt of fear, he realized the scream was coming from Four. A nightmare?

Four just… kept screaming. Legend stood back as the others flocked to the smallest of their party. Legend wasn’t very good at comforting people, so he let the others do so instead.

Not that any of them were having any success.

Sky was shaking Four, trying to wake him. Hyrule was lightly slapping Four, hoping to shock him out of his nightmare. It wasn’t working, clearly.

Something about Four’s screams didn’t sit right with Legend. Any nightmare-induced scream was bad, but this was… this was something else.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, he joined the clustered Links. He looked closer at Four. 

He brought his hand out and forcefully clamped Four’s jaw shut.

The effect wasn’t immediate. Four still attempted to scream at first. Then his body shuttered and the sound from his throat died down.

Slowly he opened his eyes. Unfocused, staring at nothing.

Sky was saying something, but Legend wasn’t listening. Four wasn’t listening either, by the looks of it. 

Legend, who was still holding Four’s jaw, gave him a little shake.

Instantly Four’s eyes snapped to his own. Four went rigid, eyes widening. A beat passed, and Four went boneless. His eyes dropped to the ground. He gave a sad smile, and bared his neck. He gave the tiniest, most pathetic chuckle Legend had ever heard.

“Sorry,” he rasped in a near silent whisper. “Thank you.”

No one said anything at first. 

“You gave us all quiet a fright, Four. Are you alright?” Time asked.

Four flinched and looked around, eyes darting to the others assembled. He looked as though he was noticing everyone else for the first time. “...What?”

Legend traded looks with the others. Something was clearly wrong.

Four shuttered again. “Oh.” He shook his head, then brought a hand up to rest on his forehead. “ _ Oh.” _

“Must’ve been some nightmare,” Wind said.

“...” Four’s gaze drifted across the assembled members. “...Not a nightmare.”

“Well color me shocked, could’ve fooled me.” Legend said. He winced at his choice of words when Four flinched.

“Memories.” Four choked out. “The day I…” He trailed off, looking into nothing.

Legend gave his shoulder a shake. “Hey now, stay with us in the present.”

“Why did you never tell me?” Four whispered, locking eyes with Legend.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Four, perhaps you should rest some more.” Sky said with a gentleness Legend would never be capable of.

“Or you could join me on watch, if you’d like some company,” Warrior added.

Four blinked, then shook his head. He then passed out.

Sky kept an eye on him throughout the night, and Wolfie appeared and curled up next to Four.

Morning came and Four slept dead to the world. It was unanimously decided to wait until noon to wake him.

When he finally did wake, Four was… out of it. He was spacey. He was eve quieter than usual. He refused to even so much as look at his precious sword. Worst of all, he kept giving Legend these weird  _ looks _ . He wasn’t even sure what  _ kind _ of looks they were. Some strange mix of regret, gratitude, sadness, shame, and confusion.

But Legend let it go. Most of the assembled heroes were adept at the coping method of ‘never speak of it again’. Out of all of them, usually only Wind, Wild, or Four were the sort to try and talk about past traumas. Goddesses knew how much trauma he refused to speak of.

Legend was not going to force Four to talk about it. He wasn’t even going to suggest it.

But the looks weren’t going away.

Days past and Four wasn’t much better. He quickly got over his strange revolution to his sword (the same sword he gushed pride about on most days). He fought well enough (thank the Goddesses), but outside of combat he was… rattled.

One night, Legend overheard yelling in the woods. He shook his head. Wind was shouting. Legend couldn’t hear any response from Four, but he didn’t need to.

“ _ What’s wrong with you?! _ ” Wind’s cry split the silence of the camp.

Then there was silence once more.

Wind and Four entered camp together. Wind looked shame-faced and regretful. Four didn’t look like anything.

More days passed. Legend was getting sick of the staring.

Slowly Four seemed to go back to normal. He was still a bit quieter than before, and he still regarded Legend with a sort of reverence that he couldn’t understand, but everything else slipped back into the mundane.

They passed from Hyrule to Hyrule. They came to his own Hyrule, the original one. The one without Ravio or Lorule. The one he could never bear to settle down in, leading him quest to quest just so he didn’t have to return to a home filled with memories of battle and fighting.

Still, it was home. As much of a home as he had. It felt wrong without Ravio.

Then the group got into a battle. Horribly outnumbered. Legend had a few tricks up his sleeve, ones he was hesitant to reveal, but if the tide did not change he knew he would have to.

Instead, Four lifted his blade high and in a flash of light, Four became four.

_ What…? _

Legend didn’t have any more time to question as instincts won over, his attention wrenched away to parry a blow from a monster.

It was a vicious battle. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, the monsters began to dwindle. Legend continued fighting.

Then he whirled and saw a creature out of his worst nightmares.  _ How…? _

Legend took no time to ponder, no time to think. It was fight or die.  _ No fairy to save me this time. _

Legend lashed out at the small creature, the same one that had once ran him through. Shouts rang out around him, but he didn’t hear. He couldn’t. His focus was on the purple shadow-creature. The creature that had so nearly bested him, coming far closer to killing him than even Ganon ever had.

The creature parried twice. It didn’t strike out like he’d expected, instead staying on defensive. That was fine. He could work with that.

He swung in a great arc. As he predicted, his smaller opponent rolled to dodge, springing up behind him. Once he had been in this very same position, overextended and defenseless. But that had been years ago. He had gone on many more adventures and quests, growing and learning with every single one.

Legend had expected the shadow-creature to roll behind him. He was prepared for it.  _ He was prepared for it this time _ .

The momentum of his blade’s arc had never ended. Instead of the single slash that he had given in this battle before, this strike was a spin attack. His foot pivoted and his blade swung, aimed at the creature’s chest. He would carve the dark  _ thing _ in half this time.

He had a moment to see the face of the creature. Violet eyes widened, sparkling with recognition and fear, lips parted in surprise. Legend had to wonder if that was how he had looked, all those years ago.  _ No, he’d been far more afraid _ .

His blade would have sliced the creature of shadow in two, had Legend not been tacked to the ground.

Legend struggled in panic. Had one of the other four shadow creatures attacked him? Legend flailed, his desperation growing as the larger figure held him down.

“—end! Snap out of it Legend!” Twilight was scream in his face. 

Legend jolted back to reality. His body tensed, but he stopped struggling.

“Twilight, the creature, let me go!” Legend yelled. “It’ll kill us all!”

Legend took advantage of Twilight’s confusion and wormed his way out from under the other hero. He panted heavily, up on his feet in a flash. He held his blade in front of himself, ready to defend or lash out.

His eyes darted about, searching for where the next attack would come. His eyes caught on his companions. Worn and bloodied from the battle, but that was not what caught his attention. Surprised, confused, concerned, and cautious faces studied him. 

“Legend,” Time’s steady voice called to him, “the battle is over. Put down your blade.” Time spoke as though he was talking to a cornered animal, his hands outstretched in front of him.

What the hell was Time going on about? Legend swung his head around the clearing, his eyes finally settling on the creature he was looking for.

All four of the darkened reflections were huddled together, the four familiar blades drawn and ready.  _ Why was no one doing anything about them! _

“Legend, please calm down.” Four spoke, his voice drifting from the shadow-creature wearing purple.

Legend’s jaw dropped. He took a closer look at the four small creatures. Each one looked damningly familiar, and damningly different. The green one stood strong and bright, no longer sickly. The red one stood fearful and fretting, no longer washed out and in pain. The blue one looked angry, very very angry, but not nearly as enraged as the darkened variant had.

Their features were clearer, not wreathed in wisps of shadow. Only the one with crimson eyes was the one in red. There was no taint of darkness following the group. 

Yet his eyes trailed downwards, settling on the very same swords he had once collected, had once fought. He couldn't take his eyes from the very blade that once speared through his torso.

“Are you back with us?” Twilight said, cautiously approaching.

Legend nodded with a jerk.

“In that case— ” Twilight backhanded Legend.

Legend fell on his ass. “Wh— What the fuck?!” He shouted.

“Getting lost in the haze of battle is one thing, but you attacked one of our own! What the hell is wrong with you, Legend!?”

“Stop.” Four’s voice, though quiet, cut through the clearing like a knife. “This is my fault. Not his.”

“Four, he was  _ an inch _ away from  _ killing _ you! How was that _your_ fault?!”

But Four (the purple one?) just shook his head. He approached but kept his distance. The other three flanked him. “We should have warned you.” He gestured to the hilt of the sword strapped now to his waist. “It’s called the ‘Four Sword’ for a reason. It allows me to split into four.”

“That’s no excuse!” Warrior burst out. “We were all surprised by you multiplying, Four, but we didn’t  _ attack you with lethal intent _ because out it!”

Legend felt his shame rise. He could see now how much the four parts of Four looked like, well, Four. They reminded him, eerily so, of the shades he once fought, but they weren’t the same. He rose and sheathed his sword. He couldn’t meet Four’s eyes (any of them). “Tch, whatever. Got any more fucking surprises?” He bit out. He should apologize. Oh well.

Four shrugged, all four of them. “And why the hell would we tell you, if we did? Like you don’t have more secrets than any of us!” the blue one snarled. It was  _ strange _ hearing such intense anger come from the normally level-headed Four, but Legend knew he deserved it. Still, he had to fight back a flinch from the memory of the enraged shadow-creature.

The red one elbowed the blue one. “No surprises that would trigger any shellshock,” the red Four answered.

“Yeah, fine, great. I’m going for a walk.” Legend turned and tried to flee.

A hand clamped onto his shoulder. “You are not.” Time spoke. “Did you forget we only just survived this ambush? Do you think there are no more out there, just waiting for you to stumble upon them alone?”

Legend yanked his shoulder away. “Fuck you old man. You think I can’t take care of myself?” But he didn’t leave.

Slowly the party began to tend to each other, healing and bandaging what wounds they had. Legend felt himself slump, tension leaving his body as Four merged back into one.

Later that night, Legend woke with a scream lodged in his throat. He bit it back and tried to calm his breathing. He didn’t need to remember the nightmare to know exactly what it had been about.

Glancing around the camp, he saw Four staring back at him. Of course he would get a nightmare when Four of all people was on watch…

Legend sighed. He knew there was no chance of getting back to sleep. He stood and quietly moved to where Four was keeping watch. “Hey, I’ll take the rest of your shift. Can’t sleep anyways. You can think of it as an apology for earlier today.”

Four just moved over and gestured for Legend to sit beside him. He groaned internally. But he sat.

It was an awkward silence. For Legend it was, at least. Four looked calm and undisturbed as ever.

“Remember a few weeks ago, when I woke screaming?” Four cut the silence.

Legend cocked an eyebrow. He had expected… well he didn’t really know what he expected Four to say, but not that. “Not really something easy to forget.”

Four hummed in response. “Sometimes, I’ll dream of other times I was a hero,” Four says.

“Yeah, same as Wind. You two have said that before.”

Four shook his head though. “It’s similar, but there’s something that makes our dreams different. Wind dreams of a different life, as a different person. When I dream, it is my future.”

Legend frowned. “What are you getting out? Pretty sure Wind’s dreams are in the future too.”

“When I dream, it is  _ my _ future.” He pulled forth the Four Sword and laid it across his lap. Now that Legend looked closer, he could see the resemblance to the four swords he once gathered. “For you see, the day I die, my soul will live on within the sword.”

Legend’s eyes widened.  _ He doesn’t mean… _

“When Hyrule becomes threatened again, a new hero will come forward to wield my blade. In my dreams of the future, I  _ am _ the blade.”

Legend’s mind conjured memories of the four shades he fought within the Palace of the Four Sword. How similar they appeared to Four.

“And one day, many ages from my time, I will be taken by darkness and driven mad.” Four looked directly into Legend’s eyes. “That nightmare I had those nights ago? I remembered the final time my blade was used. The pain and confusion, the isolation trapped in a prison of shadows. Over the centuries, I forgot all that I was and had ever been. But then a speck of light appeared and freed me.”

Legend couldn’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” Four said. “I’m sorry for the things I will in my future do to you, and I’m sorry for the things I have already done in your past.” Four pointed to a place on Legend’s stomach, a spot with a scar he had never told the other about. “And thank you. Thank you for freeing me.”

“... I didn’t free you, Four. I killed you.” Legend whispered.

Four nodded. “Yes. It was the greatest act of mercy anyone will ever give me. Besides, I killed you too.” He paused, staring into the embers of the campfire. The light of the flames danced shadows across his face. “I’m grateful you had a fairy.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“You didn’t kill me, though,” Legend whispered into the fire. “The shado—no, you… you had the perfect shot. I was defenseless. I always wondered, why didn’t you finish me?” 

Four smiled. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. “In my last moments, I remembered enough of who I had once been. In my last moments, I remembered that I had once been a creature of light, same as the one I was fighting.”

Four closed his eyes and took four deep breaths. Then he stood. “Well, my watch is over. Warrior is next, want me to wake him?”  _ Do you want company? _ Legend knew he was really asking.

Legend cocked a smile. It was crooked, but it wasn’t like Four would be able to tell in the darkness. “I told you already I’d take this shift. Go to sleep Four. I’ll be fine.”


End file.
